


Death Wish: Little Death

by Birdie (Robin_Mask)



Series: Death Wish [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Slash, Sexual Fantasy, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Birdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter awakens with thoughts of Wade . . .</p><p>He has realised his feelings for some time. He knows what he wants. </p><p>He is willing to explore those fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Wish: Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read alone.
> 
> It can also be read directly before chapter eleven of 'Death Wish: Life and Death'. 
> 
> I do have some more serious one-shots and short stories planned, but I thought it best to get the PWP out of the way first.

# Death Wish: Little Death

****

_Wade . . ._

Peter blinked away the sleep. It was almost painful to open his eyes, especially when the sunlight from the windows hit him just right across his pupils, and he couldn’t help but to groan and to slide slightly across the bed. The sunbeam now struck his shoulder, but even this new freedom to see his surroundings didn’t help him in the least. No. It instead served as a morbid reminder that his dream had been just that and nothing more . . . _a dream_ . . . the reality felt far colder.

 

He couldn’t help but to strike the side of the bed quite hard, as there was still the lingering hope that perhaps maybe – _just maybe_ – there would be the figure of Wade next to him, likely snoring away as he had a habit of doing or talking in his sleep, but his hand struck nothing. There wasn’t any sign of Wade. It was becoming more and more clear to Peter, as the fogginess and dizziness began to clear, that he had simply imagined the other man in his mind and none of it had been real in the least. He hadn’t been fighting with Wade, just as they hadn’t kissed passionately, and just as he then hadn’t made love to the other man before awaking rather uncomfortably.

 

“What a time to wake up . . .”

 

There was a heat over his body that he couldn’t ignore. The erection between his legs felt almost painful, so that he could feel it throb where it stood, as well as the small damp spot of pre-come against his stomach. It didn’t help when he shifted slightly to get more comfortable, as the rub of his boxers – especially the waistband around the tip – felt almost like a form of torture, both painful and pleasurable in an unendurable combination. It caused him to shift again, which only made the matter worse.

 

He just . . . he just wanted to _touch_ it. He was alone in his room, just as he was certain that he had locked the door, and he just wanted some _relief_. It was still so early in the morning, so that there were creases along his bare chest from where he had cuddled up against the sheets and blankets, and there was a rather unpleasant sweat upon his body that he didn’t quite appreciate. There was something of a cold chill in the air, although he was probably simply more aware of the temperature due to his state of undress and the way he had kicked off the sheets in his sleep, and – the more he thought about heat – the harder it was to ignore his arousal.

 

It wasn’t that he was averse to a little self-indulgence, but since Gwen’s passing it had felt somewhat like a betrayal. He had truly loved Gwen. There wasn’t a day in which he hadn’t thought about her, and yet lately he had grown more and more attached to Wade, enough that he had begun to fall in love with the older man. He _lusted_ for the older man. It was hard not to wonder whether Gwen would forgive him for moving on, let alone moving on with Wade, and that wasn’t to mention what Wade would think of being used as a masturbatory fantasy. He felt guilty.

 

“Sorry, Gwen,” he muttered.

 

Peter reached out and found the photo-frame on his bedside table, where beyond the glass lay a photograph of Gwen smiling so beautifully that he could almost forget that she had passed away, and – with a heavy sigh – he slammed the frame down so that those eyes couldn’t look back at him. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his feelings for Wade, but it didn’t mean that he wanted the visual reminder of Gwen watching over him. He didn’t want to debate whether his feelings were right or wrong; he simply wanted to _feel_ , much like how Wade always encouraged him to do, and he couldn’t let himself feel _anything_ other than guilt with her eyes upon him.

 

It was then that he let his hand rest above his heart. He could already feel it begin to beat rapidly beneath his palm, which gave a little hitch to his breath and made him hyper-aware of the sensations under his fingertips. This was so far removed from how Wade’s touch would feel, with calloused fingertips and scarred palms, and yet – if he concentrated enough – he could fool himself into thinking that it was Wade. He closed his eyes and let fantasies take over. He wanted Wade.

 

_‘You’re so beautiful, baby boy.’_

_‘Wade, I – I need more. Please, don’t tease.’_

_Wade would probably take charge. It would be a first for Peter, which would make it all the more intimate and special, and Wade would smile down – unmasked and full of confidence – before he would place a kiss to the younger man’s lips. Those lips . . . chapped and dry and full . . . they would taste faintly of Mexican food and maybe there would be a hint of mint from the gum the mercenary chewed. It would be soft at first, still teasing, but then it would become something more._

It was a moment that Peter had pictured many times over the recent months, which brought a smile to his lips, and – as his left hand traced lazy patterns over his torso – he let his right hand stroke slowly up to his neck and up to his lips. He licked lightly at his fingertips. The last thing he had eaten had been tacos, and as such he could taste the traces of his last meal, which reminded him of Wade and only served to make his arousal grow. He told himself that it was teenage hormones, because otherwise he dreaded to think what it made of him, even as he began to suck and lick around his fingers with an almost eagerness.

 

_‘You kiss damned well. I would love to see what else that tongue of yours can do.’_

_‘Later,’ Peter would say. ‘I’m going to explode!’_

_‘Don’t want to come unless I’m in you?’_

_Wade would kiss him again, but this time so much deeper. He would feel their tongues clash and fight, as the older man slid his inside of Peter’s mouth, at which point Peter would groan and wrap his arms around the other man’s back. It would be so intimate, as well as a little overwhelming. He would struggle to find breath, as Wade would be so dominating and so determined to teach him what a real kiss could be, and meanwhile Wade’s hand would slide lower down his chest._

How did Wade prefer to make love? He seemed like he might enjoy being taken as much as he would to take another, and Peter – in his deepest fantasies – always had been keen on the idea of trying both, but in this particular moment he wanted to be taken. He wanted someone to take charge and make him forget the past, to envelop him and consume him, until the only thing left was the frenzied sex between them and the orgasm that would make him faint from pleasure. Did it hurt to be taken? It couldn’t, else why would anyone allow themselves to be taken? What would it feel like to have Wade’s come inside him? Would Wade withdraw first?

 

_He would feel Wade’s hand trail down his chest, before it would come back up to tease at his nipple, even as the kiss would continue. There would be a gentle stroking around the areola, enough to cause Peter to gasp and pause in his kiss, so that his mouth would open wide and Wade would simply snigger against him, before he would flick at the nipple and send waves of pleasure through Peter. Yes, it would be at that time that the mercenary would learn about his erogenous places._

_It may be then that Wade would break away the kiss to lick and nibble at his neck, even as both hands now played with his chest. Peter would squirm and move and moan, as he would shoot both hands up to grip tight onto the older man’s shoulders, whilst Wade would then bite at his skin and cause Peter to arch his back and bare his neck. He could picture the sucking and licking, so that a bruise would be sure to form, and he would begin to picture excuses to tell his parents only to lose all thoughts entirely, as Wade’s other hand would slide lower and lower . . ._

“Damn, oh God,” murmured Peter.

 

Peter pushed down his boxers to take a hold of his length. He wondered whether Wade would be impressed or disappointed at the sight, because – in Peter’s view – he was decidedly average in length and girth, although it was not as though he had ever saw an erect penis belonging to anyone else to know. It was cut and appeared normal enough, but what about Wade? What if he were much longer or uncircumcised or wider? What if he didn’t like Peter’s techniques or touches?

 

_He would stroke lightly and gently at first, whilst Peter’s pre-come would provide a natural lubricant, and his other hand – wet with saliva, likely from having had Peter lick it all over – would come down to rest on Peter’s thigh. Peter would be nervous, but he would know what to expect and what would need to be done. Wade would want to prepare him, although at first he would continue to tease and torment Peter with those touches. Oh God. He might twist just slightly as Peter liked, maybe play with the slit and squeeze near his release to prolong it. He might even talk dirty._

_It would be then that he would roll Peter over and – no! No, he wouldn’t do that, because he would want to look at his lover and see every miniscule change in his expression, as well as see the way he would gasp and beg and moan. He would lift a leg of Peter’s to drape over his shoulder, where he would then smile lasciviously at the younger man. Peter would blush and try to look away, but Wade would grab his head with his saliva-covered digits and make him look . . . make him watch._

_‘Don’t look away, Petey.’_

Peter turned partially onto his side. He brought his right hand down from where it had fallen to play with his nipples, so that now it rested above his virgin entrance, and suddenly he felt a spark of nervousness. This was not an area he had ever played with, but he felt harder than he ever had and his left hand wouldn’t stop its moderately fast pace along his length. He teased the outside lightly, just pressing without any real pressure, but all it felt was odd . . . not good or bad . . . just odd.

 

It was then that he pushed his index finger to move inside, although it took a little effort with what proved to be rather bad lubrication. He wasn’t totally naïve, no matter what his team-mates thought, and he knew that he and Wade would need to buy some real lubrication were they to ever do this in real-life. Still, with a little bit of wiggling he managed to get his finger in midway, although it took a great amount of movement and patience, and he soon realised that squeezing his channel and following the natural curve helped _immensely_ , so that soon he fit in the entire finger.

 

_‘It – it feels weird, Wade.’_

_‘It’ll soon feel good. I swear to you.’_

He wondered whether it would always feel so weird to him, but he swore that he could feel his pulse through those ridged inner walls, and the clenching – that came with each wave of pleasure as he worked his penis – seemed to come irregular and trap his finger inside him. There was no pain, no discomfort, but the digit felt alien and awkward, and he couldn’t help but move it within himself. He tried to insert another digit, but it was too much. Did he need real lubrication?

 

_‘Can you feel it, Petey? Can you feel me inside you?’_

_Wade would move inside him. He didn’t know how large Wade would be, let alone how much preparation that would need, but for now he would imagine that there was something inside him far larger than one measly finger. The older man would go slow at first, so that Peter would have time to get used to it, only to gradually get faster and faster, where he would continuously hit that spot Peter had heard so much about, but had never found or thought of finding. It would be a first._

_It would get faster and faster, just as Peter’s hand was currently doing, until he would feel nothing but the thrust of the member inside him, and he wondered what sounds Wade would make during the act of intercourse. He was so vocal usually, and he had been told that quiet people were often vocal during sex . . . did that work in reverse? He could picture Wade above him silent for once, save for the small gasps and breathless groans, and he would hear the slapping of skin upon skin, as well as his heart beating loudly in his chest. He would see Wade – sweat-covered – look down at him with those brown eyes and –_

Peter felt himself come intensely.

 

It felt strange to feel his walls clench around his finger, only to slowly drift into a fluttering sensation as the aftershocks kicked in, and he felt the pulses in his penis as the come splattered onto his stomach and chest. It felt warm and wet. He lost his breath and found it stolen for the moment of absolute bliss, where his mouth was wide and no air came into his lungs. It was a silent orgasm. The last thought on his mind was Wade’s eyes and his possible orgasm expression. It was too much.

 

He let the aftershocks shake through him, before he removed his finger and fell onto his back, whilst the sweat made his hair cling to his head. The only thing he could hear was his heartbeat for the longest time, whilst his lungs struggled to regain breath. Peter felt amazing. It was such a rush and had relieved all the stress that he had not even been aware he had been holding, and suddenly he felt boneless and relaxed to the point that he realised what it was that he truly wanted . . . he wanted _Wade_. It was awful to finish and be alone in bed, with no Wade to cuddle next to and no Wade’s scent to smell, and he wanted that intimacy. He wanted to hold him and tell him that he was loved. He wanted Wade and no one else!

 

Peter grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and began to wipe himself down, before the come would dry and flake, which often became itchy and awkward. He also didn’t want to risk accidentally staining the sheets, and then having to explain the stains away in a way that didn’t humiliate him, so it was much better to clean off now. A part of him wondered if Wade was the sort to shower after sex, maybe with a lover, and that led to thoughts that almost broke the refractory period and nearly gave him a new erection. This wasn’t fair . . . Wade was torturing him and he wasn’t even there!

 

There was just one thing for certain:

 

“I need you, Wade.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
